as gently as he could that her sole need was better food, and the
sister of the starved child who turned upon him with a kind of choking
passion, and, pulling from her pocket a few pence and half-pence and
holding them out, cried: "That is all I get for six-and-thirty hours'
work, and you talk about giving her proper food."

When, after a full year, he left Rotherhithe for the north of London,
to be apprenticed--as his elder brother, James, had already been
apprenticed--to his other medical brother-in-law, Dr. Scott, he saw
more of this teeming, squalid life in the filthy courts and alleys
through which he used to pass on his way to the library of the College
of Surgeons.

What, in later life, he tried to do to better this state of things
was not the usual philanthropic work, but the endeavour to
bring intellectual light to the ignorant toilers, to strip away
make-believe, and provide some machinery by which to catch and utilize
capacity.

Great was the change from the surroundings of Rotherhithe to the home
atmosphere of the Scotts. He was now with his favourite sister Eliza,
his senior by twelve years, who was a second mother to him. Her
sympathy and encouragement did much for him; her belief in the future
of "her boy" was redoubled upon his first public success when, at the
age of seventeen, he won the second prize, the silver medal of the
Apothecaries' Company, in a competitive examination in botany. "For a
young hand," he tells us, "I worked really hard from eight or nine in
the morning until twelve at night, besides a long, hot summer's walk
over to Chelsea, two or three times a week, to hear Lindley. A great
part of the time--_i.e._, June and July--I worked till sunrise. The